


Mark My Words

by happyshoggoth



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Cecil's Mother - Freeform, Gen, Night Vale, The Glow Cloud - Freeform, The Voice of Night Vale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-22
Updated: 2014-03-22
Packaged: 2018-01-16 13:13:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1348717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happyshoggoth/pseuds/happyshoggoth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a woman in Night Vale who is about to have another child. She's down on her luck, you see. She wants the best for her children, and she wants the best for herself. Everyone wants the best, don't they? This is her story.</p><p>(General warning for pregnancy and mild depictions of poverty, including monetary issues and instability.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mark My Words

“But mom,” he whined, “we went to the Moonlite last night! Why do we have to go again?”

“It’s the best we can do for right now,” she told him.

Her son sighed, and the wind seemed to shrug with his breath. “Can I play the claw game?”

She bopped his nose playfully. “Of course you can,” she said, and he giggled.

All was still as they walked through the too-heavy doors into the diner, which always seemed to be lit more brightly than it needed to be. Ms. Palmer didn’t mind, though, because what seemed irritating inside the building was a blessing on the road. The Moonlite All-Nite Diner stuck out like a sore thumb against the desert wasteland surrounding it on all sides but one, and its glow was beautiful in a way.

“Can I?” Ms. Palmer’s son’s pleading voice brought her out of her thoughts as they were brought to their table and seated. Their waitress’s eyes were vacant, her mouth continually responding in her chipper monotone of a whisper to a conversation happening on the other side of the restaurant. “Can I play the claw machine?”

“Just a moment,” she said, chuckling inwardly at his hurriedness. “Let’s order first, goofy!”

“Goofy,” the waitress said to herself, writing the word down on her notepad. She stared ahead at a miniature saguaro that had been potted and placed on the table. “Goofy.”

 

_It’s the best we can do for right now._

The baby was further along, and “right now” seemed to have extended indefinitely.

_Remember, you chose this…_

“Mom,” he asked one day, “why can’t _I_ get a Leonard Burton pin?”

“Why on Earth would you want one of those overpriced Leonard Burton pins?”

“Because all the other boys at school have them,” he said before dramatically slumping to the ground. “They were making fun of me. Told me I’d never be good like him. Can’t I have one?”

“I’ve told you, honey, it’s the best we can do for right now.”

“ _What’s_ the best we can do for right now?”

“You’ll understand when you’re older,” she said, and that was the end of it. “Now go to bed. Good night.”

“Night, Mom,” he grumbled, and sulked off to his room.

 

_It’s the best we can do for right now._

The Leonard Burton pin turned into the new clothes, which turned into good food, which turned into three adequate meals a day, which turned into maybe the house, Mom’s not sure, be prepared for anything, honey.

The baby was further along.

_It’s the best we can do for right now._

She didn’t understand! Why did it have to be _her_ jumping from job to job? Why did it have to be _her_ who received the strange looks from her management until eventually they cast her out in the politest tone they could muster?

Bastards. Judgmental, ridiculous bastards.

_It’s the best we can do for right now._

Of course it wasn’t! What the hell was she thinking? Where did she think she was living?

That night, while her boy was deep in sleep, she ventured into the mossy basement and found them.

She hadn’t used them in years, as was evident from the thick coat of dust that sheltered their once-shining surfaces. She peeled it off as if she were peeling a fruit, the dullest orange in the world. A bit of scrubbing revealed their characteristic shimmer.

 _Bloodstones._ That word held power on even the weakest tongue. No hand had touched them since she received them for her fifteenth birthday, but the dim, buzzing glow of the overhead basement light illuminated their now-shining surfaces just as powerfully as the night they had been unwrapped.

Being careful not to make too much noise on the ancient, squeaking stairs, she made her way back up to the deathly dark of the house, holding her precious cargo to her chest, still not stripped of all its dust and grime.

Now she lit the fireplace, and turned off each and every electric light in the house.

Stagnant darkness. Stagnant silence.

_It’s the best we can do for right now._

“To hell with that,” she muttered as she arranged them into a circle before the flames.

 

“WHO DARES TO BIND THE ALMIGHTY GLOW CLOUD TO THIS PLANE?” The apparition boomed in an echoing voice plucked from the deepest trench.

“SHHH!” She hissed. “Wake my kid up with that voice and I’ll keep you bound here forever.”

 _FINE_. Now its voice seemed to penetrate her mind rather than her ears. _WHAT DO YOU WANT, UNWORTHY MORTAL? WHAT DO YOU FEEL YOU DESERVE FROM THE GLOW CLOUD?_

“I want security,” she whispered, squinting as the colors danced around on her face. “I want to live in comfort. I don’t want to ever have to worry about food, or shelter, or any material want. Forever.”

 _VERY WELL,_ the Glow Cloud boomed. _THAT IS WITHIN MY POWER._

“So make it happen,” she said.

 _YOU SEEM TO FORGET, FILTHY HUMAN,_ the Glow Cloud intoned, _YOUR BINDING SPELL CALLS FOR A BARGAIN, NOT A FREE GIFT. THE GLOW CLOUD DOES NOT GIVE FREEBIES!_

“Okay, whatever,” she replied. “What d-“

_DID YOU THINK THAT THE GLOW CLOUD GAVE FREEBIES?_

“No. I didn’t think that the Glow Cloud… Whatever! Shut up. Just tell me what you want in return. A goat?” _Let it be a goat,_ she thought.

_THE GLOW CLOUD DOES NOT WANT, BUT IT KNOWS WHAT THEY WANT._

“They?”

_THE FORCES THAT BE. WHAT THEY WANT IS YOUR CHILD. NOT YOUR WALKING MORTAL WHO SLUMBERS THIS INSTANT – THE ONE YET UNBORN._

“My child!?” What had she expected, though, really? “You’re not taking my kid!”

 _THE FORCES THAT BE DEMAND IT,_ the Glow Cloud said, thrashing about in its floating prison. _HE WILL NOT BE HARMED. HE WILL NOT BE KILLED, NOR WILL HE BE TAKEN AWAY FROM YOUR POSSESSIVE ARMS._

“Then what does your bargain even entail?”

_YOU WILL LIVE WITH YOUR CHILD, NORMAL, CAREFREE, HAPPY, UNTIL HE TURNS FIFTEEN YEARS OLD. ONCE HIS YEARS SURPASS THAT NUMBER, HE WILL BE CALLED TO HIS DUTY. AND YOU MUST ALLOW HIM TO PURSUE IT, EVEN IF IT MEANS LEAVING HIM BEHIND._

“Leaving him behind? Why would I ever do that?”

A nasty chuckle, high-pitched and squeaky, rang out in her head, pounding against her ears. _CIRCUMSTANCES WILL CHANGE. IT IS AS SURE AS THE DEATH OF EVERY MORTAL. AND INDEED CECIL WILL DIE, WHEN THE MIRROR CLAIMS HIM AS ITS OWN._

“When the mirror claims him? Look, I didn’t sign up for this.”

_JUST FIFTEEN YEARS, DONATED TO A NOBLE PURPOSE. FIFTEEN YEARS OF NOT KNOWING. AND THEN YOU AND YOUR SON WILL NEVER HAVE TO WORRY AGAIN._

“There’s no way in hell I’ll…” _It’s the best we can do for right now._

_JUST FIFTEEN YEARS, AND THEN YOU ARE FREE._

Was that the life she wanted for her child?

_WHAT SAY YOU, MORTAL?_

“I’ll do it.”

The Glow Cloud was silent. A thunderclap sounded in the distance, and it began to rain.

“I said, I’ll do it.”

But before she was done speaking, the Glow Cloud had dissolved into a wisp of colorful smoke, and the room was dark but for the flitting flicker of the fire and her own short breaths.

“Wait,” she whispered to herself. “Did it say… Cecil?”


End file.
